


My Bad Angel

by MyEvilTwin (ProtoNeoRomantic)



Series: Patch Works [30]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Betrayal, Control, Exceeding the scope of concent, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Fear, Jealousy, Living Vampires, Loss of Control, Manipulation, Penis In Vagina Sex, Power Imbalance, Rape/Non-con Elements, References to Shakespeare, Revenge Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Vaginal Fingering, clandestine meetings, evil conspiracies, park bench sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 16:23:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2779775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProtoNeoRomantic/pseuds/MyEvilTwin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Mrs. Post conspires with Angel to turn Buffy against Giles, she doesn't find quite the ally in him that she bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Bad Angel

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Who Do You Think You Are?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1235281) by [ProtoNeoRomantic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProtoNeoRomantic/pseuds/ProtoNeoRomantic). 



They met in the park. Not the one across the street from the High School, the one with the playground, empty this time on a weekday in this drizzly weather. They sat on one of the benches where parents were meant to sit and watch their children at play. Angel remembered hanging around the place a few times a couple of months ago, for scouting purposes, but in the last few weeks he'd had arguably less sinister if not quite legitimate reason to be there. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t be coming anymore,” Gwendolyn said.

“I got tired of you always wanting to know if I’d told her yet,” Angel replied unapologetically.

“Well you can’t have lately,” Gwendolyn pointed out, “unless you called them long-distance and asked him to put her on the line.”

“The seeds of their discord have been planted,” he assured her. “I took a more subtle approach is all. Something more traditionally suitable to marital interference. I told someone she trusts who already doesn’t trust Rupert.”

“Her mother?” Gwendolyn guessed, smiling grimly.

“Much better,” Angel grinned wickedly. “A little boy who’s in love with her, 'but it’s alright' cause he’s 'just a friend' who wants to bang her senseless.”

Gwendolyn nodded. She knew just the one he meant. He was a well formed youth, scrumptious in fact, and charming in a clumsy, adolescent way. Of course, he'd be hard put to compete with Rupert on skill alone, but that would have been oh so easy for an experienced woman or an enthusiastic young girl to work around and/or improve upon. Besides, there was something to be said for youth for its own sake. And however well Rupert carried his years, from a school girl’s point of view he was carrying a lot of them. And he knew it too. Which meant that with luck there might soon be at least a handkerchief’s worth of justification for violence between the Watcher and his young bride after all.

“But how does that serve your purpose?” she asked, more curious about her accomplice’s thought processes than concerned with his attainment of his objective, which was set at a slight angle from her own. “What if she, totally convinced of and devastated by Rupert’s treachery, falls helplessly into the boy’s arms?”

“My purpose is the same as your purpose,” Angel informed her seriously.

“Really?” Gwendolyn asked with a skeptical smile, “And what do you suppose my purpose is?”

“To make him suffer,” Angel answered without hesitation. “To rip his heart out just like he's done to you and leave his soul screaming in pain like yours still is. To let him know that he's still yours as long as your still his. To punish  _ her _ for doing the things to him that you wish you still could. To fight for the one you love.”

“Humph!” Gwendolyn scoffed. “Love has nothing to do with this. I don't _ want _ Rupert. I'm after nothing but power and revenge, in that order.”

Angel moved closer to her on the bench, his smile becoming vaguely lascivious. “Liar,” he whispered huskily against her ear. She could feel his hot breath on her skin. “I can see it in your eyes. If you even think for one second about him fucking her it burns you up inside, the same as me, admit it.” He reached and put his hand on her calf below her skirt and beneath her overcoat moving it slowly upwards. “And you want him to know,” he breathed, his hand was under her skirt now, moving up her thigh, “You want them both to know…” she didn’t have a lot of thigh left. 

“Mr.—” she started to say with scolding dignity, trying to rise to her feet. But she didn’t have a last name to scold him with. It didn’t matter. That was the least of her worries. His other arm clamped down over her shoulders holding her tight, effortlessly pinning her to the bench. 

“… exactly how it feels,” he concluded, as if he hadn’t noticed her attempts to speak or stand. His hand was inside her nickers, two finger maneuvering to get inside her body. 

“Now look here!” Rupert’s silly, uptight formerly fucking cousin bleated, trying-to-be-calm-and-sternly. She was pale and her voice was shaking. “That’s enough!”

“No it’s not!” Angel corrected her with a cruel laugh, enjoying her terror and helplessness. But he stopped just short of violating her by force and let his hand lay still against her pubis. He was more in the mood for a dark gray seduction than an outright rape today. Besides, he wasn’t entirely sure that he was done using Gwendolyn as an ally. And, above all else, it would be more fun letting Rupert know that she had ultimately invited him in. “You need to get fucked,” he said. “You know it; I know it; you know that I know it. And I need to be the one to do it to you, do you know why?”

“Enlighten me,” said Gwendolyn with withering scorn. 

“Because it'll _kill_ him to know that you let me!” Angel murmured vehemently against her ear, ending his declaration with something between a nip and a kiss, nowhere near hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to excite him about the prospect. He had to apply a significant amount of willpower keep his human mask in place. Not that he thought for a minute that Gwendolyn was being fooled about his true nature, but still, there was no need giving away exactly what his new and continuing talents were now that he had been 'cured' of being dead.

His hand was moving again. Gwendolyn didn't stop him. Didn't or couldn't? She _was_ terrified. There was no denying how easily he outmatched her, and she had no illusions that she could appeal to his decency or mercy. But there was also something in what he'd said. And something in the hot, damp, seeping feeling of anticipation, the crackle of sexual energy that spread from his gently wriggling fingers through her cunt and up into her belly, to the tingling points of her nipples and down the humming, waiting flesh of her slightly parted thighs. With a small smile and a sort of internal shrug, Gwendolyn parted her thighs a little further. Making room. Getting comfortable. Telling herself, it didn't have to matter if she couldn't stop him, and long as they both knew she didn't want to. 

He had two fingers inside her now sliding and curling and stretching; the first foreign flesh to penetrated that space in she didn't care to think how many years. He was still stroking her outer lips with his thumb in gentle (then less gentle) circular motions that more and more frequently, more and more forcefully tugged the loose hood of thin sensitive skin over and around and against the head of her clit, building a slow, steady tension. Angel made tiny, appreciative sounds in the back of his throat. Gwendolyn found she couldn't help making a few appreciative noises of her own. She reached towards him, to put her hands on his body and enjoy his reciprocal response. But the arm that she had begun to think of once again as being 'casually' draped over her shouldered suddenly gripped her tight, pinning her arms to her sides. 

Angel made a low, throaty sound that could have been a sound of desire, but sounded more hostile than lustful, at best it was an expression of greedy, possessive passion. Gwendolyn's whole being shuddered in a mingled release of sexual climax and surrender to helpless terror. Without a word, Angel pushed and pulled her into position, shoving her face too hard against the stiff, metal arm of the park bench, her belly scraping against wood, one leg bent under her at a painful angle, the other braced against the ground in instinctive response to her unbalanced attitude, though there was no chance of Angel letting go. When he thrust into her, Gwendolyn found that she was bracing herself for pain rather than hoping for pleasure. Tears formed in her eyes, though his hard, fast, indifferent strokes were not particularly painful in her well lubricated condition. “Damn,” she cursed once, quietly, disappointedly, as she waited for it to be over. 

Angel grunted his release and slipped out of her, still leaned forward on top of her, almost but not quite to the point of lying down, continuing to brace himself against the bench as his breathing returned to normal. “Damn,” he agreed with quiet, seemingly genuine regret. He stood and at last Gwendolyn was able to sit up and pull her skirt down, which made her feel only a little less exposed. Shaking, she looked up at him, trying to guess what might be in store for her next. He looked grim, pensive. It was probably the loss of control he was regretting, Gwendolyn decided, the fact of allowing his impulses to overwhelm his carefully planned strategy of emotional manipulation. Not surprising. Control was important to him. And of course, he was not an idiot. He had to be worried that he'd just turned a bold ally into a subtle enemy. 

Gwendolyn tried not to look angry, so that he wouldn't think he'd used her up and might as well throw her away. “Well,” she managed, hoping she sounded more playful than she felt, her voice shaking a little. “I do admire a man who gets straight to business.”

Angel just glowered at her for a moment and turned and walked away. “Same time next week,” he called over his shoulder without looking back, his voice neutral, not letting it be a question.

“Most definitely,” Gwendolyn replied anyhow, just as if it had been. But for the first time since embarking on this enterprise she was not at all sure that she would be here next week. She was starting to feel that she was in over here head,that nothing was worth the things she was putting herself through. Not vengeance. Not Power. And certainly not love. 

 


End file.
